Playing With Fire
by xcontagiousx
Summary: Sora lost everything in a terrible fire.Now orphaned, he is fostered to a rich family that has a less than welcoming son, Riku. Struggle ensues as these two opposite scale brothers learn about each other, their pasts, and themselves.
1. Chapter 1

Sora lost everything in a fire. Now orphaned, he is fostered to a rich, upscale family that already has a less than welcoming son, Riku. Struggle ensues as these two opposite scale brothers learn about each other, their pasts, and themselves.

UNDERGOING INTENSE REVISING UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

* * *

_The heat was suffocating, billowing in dark, pungent clouds of black smoke, scorching throats raw. He needed water. No, he needed air. Desperately clawed at his throat as thick smoke blazed through his nostrils and tore at the tender flesh inside his neck. His lungs constricted as he swallowed a mouthful of ashes, sparks burning his eyes and causing his skin to itch irritably. He violently rubbed his eyes, not caring if his short nails absently raked against his cheeks. _

_His muscles tried to move vainly, but felt as if lead weights held them firmly in place as the shrill sound haunted his ears above the sound of the roaring fire. A partial wooden slate cracked down across his shoulder as he screamed, inhaling more smoke, eyes brimming with tears half from a pain only subconsciously pounding across his shoulder blade and half from the sound and the horrifying revelation that the noise he heard were screams._

_He coughed violently, snapping a blackened hand across his mouth, stumbling through burning debris when he suddenly felt two sets of strong arms covered in strange, rubber-like material pin his arms down to his side. _

_"No!" His voice came out hoarse and his throat burned fehverently as he panicked, kicking his legs and flailing his arms wildly in a vain attempt to escape his captors. He tossed his head from side to side, hissing when the action pained his shoulder and bright lights suddenly wounded his eyes, blinking quickly to keep consciousness. The intensity of the light brought about a throbbing headache and he remembered struggling to voice two simple words as exhaustion and another fit of coughing overtook him._

_"Mommy..._

_"Daddy..."_

Bright light flooded through dusty, white blinds, creeping across a young teenager's face as he slept restlessly, whipping his arm around and curling to different sides every few seconds. His eyebrows pinched together as he heard a noise hovering above him and he mumbled something incoherently as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sora?"

He groaned, smacking the figure above him with his hand as he quickly turned to the other side of the bed, void of sunlight.

The voice growled, "Damnit Sora!" Suddenly, he was airborn, for not more than a milisecond, but his ocean-blue eyes snapped open and his lips formed into a small exclamation of surprise as he landed with a thump across the floor. He groaned, sitting up, discarding the wrinkled sheets that had somehow managed to follow him during his unexpected flight and turned to glare at the perpetrator.

"Roxas, what's going on?" He murmured, slowly rubbing his groggy eyes, as he stared up at a pair of bright, baby-blue eyes beneath a messy pile of short, blond hair.

"Come on," he urged, hoisting up his best friend by his arm pits, dragging him to his feet. "You overslept big time."

Sora groaned again, collapsing across the lumpy mattress, sighing as he took in the room around him. There were eight other beds, including his, spaced out evenly against the wall, each one held by a rickety frame and covered in old, graying sheets. There was a window on each side of the bed, but seemed to be useless in doing its job at making the room feel light and welcoming.

It did nothing to help the damp and musty feel to the room, or the wiry light fixtures barely clinging to the ceiling, or the inch-layer of dust that piled underneath each bed. The room was gloomy, sunlight or no sunlight.

He sighed softly again as he finally got to his feet, wary of a pair of electric eyes never leaving him as he began to make his bed. His progress was slow, and he wasn't sure whether or not it was because he was tired or because he was finally getting sick of living in this place.

"Sora, what's wrong?" Roxas asked worriedly, helping grab the corner of the sheet that was strewn across the floor and lifting it over the small mattress. He saw his friend glance wearily at a paper calendar taped on the wall. He smoothed the thin comforter over and sat down next to his friend, staring at their feet as they swayed back and forth.

"We're just doing the same thing that we always do each year before school starts," he mumbled thoughtfully. "Things just never change in this place."

Roxas sighed, drawing a hand up to jostle his already unruly hair. Sora never quite knew why he did that. "You never know, Sora. Maybe this time we'll get lucky." Sora just simply shook his head, a sad smile tracing his sunkissed features.

"Really. Maybe one day, someone will adopt us. Just you and me. We'll get our own rooms, own bathrooms, play video games, walk the dog-"

"Make our own breakfast instead of having runny eggs and lumpy oatmeal everyday," Sora grinned eagerly, his eyes glazing over as he fantasized with his best friend.

"We wouldn't have to share any clothes or toys."

"Toys, Roxas? How old are you now?"

"Can it, Sora!" Roxas growled, a thin frown lining his pale face. "You know you want that and more. Just like everybody in his hellhole." He finished, his voice fading away as his eyes narrowed.

Sora felt the smile disappear as he brought himself back unwillingly to reality. "Sometimes I wish I could go back, Roxas," he murmured, his tone dropping as he brought his feet up to his chest and a thin wrist vanished beneath a flat pillow as he retrieved an old, frayed, burnt edged photo. He fingered the faces delicately, almost as if they would diminish to ashes.

"But then again, I know everything happens for a reason, and what could I do with myself if you hadn't been dropped off into my life."

"Literally."

He nodded, faint traces of a smile appearing. "Quite literally," he agreed, shaking his head clear of rising emotions that he knew would send nightmarish torrents throughout his body. He glanced one more time at his own, carefree, happy, six-year old face, remembering how long ago it had been since that brightness in his eyes and the rose in his cheeks had visited his face, before clumsily stuffing it back under the pillow.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Roxas asked, worriedly gripping the sheets. Roxas was the only one who he felt truly understood him. He felt his heart and his pain and sorrow and desperation and the reason he rarely had a peaceful sleep. And he was the only one who had been thwarted from his previous life to live in this dump in a way closely related to his own.

But he really didn't feel like reliving the horrible events that landed him in the Hollow Bastian Orphanage. It was a rickety, old building at the end of a strip of rundown apartments, a rusty fire escape climbling up the corner of the building for several flights of stairs. It was home to over twenty different kids of various ages and origins, all whose parents had either dumped them in front of the door on a cold, stormy night, or had died.

His and Roxas' had been the latter. Roxas turned up at a most convienent time for Sora, making his stay three years after he had been placed in the home.

Eight years of his life had been dedicated to routine every morning in the orphanage, and Sora found himself following that boring, senseless routine at the age of fourteen.

Though he was the eldest of all the other children, his physical appearance deceived him. He was relatively small for his age, skinny limbs, a boyish face tanned from early years in the sun, and chocolate brown locks that spiked in every random direction atop his head.

"I'll be fine," he said despite the uncertainty lining every word. He didn't want to worry Roxas too much. The kid had already mostly gotten over and accepted his miserable life, or so it seemed. He just wish sometimes he could have done the same. "I think I should take a shower now," he stated with frim resolution.

Roxas smirked. "Good, cause you seriously need one."

Sora thwacked him over the head with his arm playfully. "How much time do I have until breakfast?"

Roxas shrugged his shoulders as he threw a hand over his friend's shoulders, walking with him to the main hallway on the third floor where they lived, along with the children who were eight and older. The second floor had been reserved for the orphaned children who were younger, along with the nursery. Sora supposed he should be grateful that they only shared a bathroom with the kids who knew how to bathe.

"I smell eggs already, so you'd better hurry up," Roxas warned, lifting Sora's thin arm off of his shoulder and darting towards the staircase at the end of the hall. "I'll save you a seat!"

As soon as he rounded the corner, Sora already felt his spirits drooping. He padded softly to a wide closet and opened it, retrieving the plastic container labeled "Sora Hikari" and opening the lid. His container was larger than many of the others, partly due to the length of time he had spent here, acquiring a few belongings that were granted his own, and partly per reason that he was older than the rest, allowing him less restrictions under the house rule.

For this, he found he was extremely grateful. He had his own towels, though old and no longer fluffy, and his own shampoo and conditioner. It was one of the things that Aerith Gainsborough, the owner and caretaker of the Orphanage, let him get by with.

It was one of the few things that set him apart from many of the children here. He knew he was being horribly selfish, but he hated sharing things that were his and only his. Things that he treasured, especially here, when something as little and meaningless as a photograph could be ransomed priceless, were his. He had nothing else that could define him or belong truly to him.

Few kids had histories here; even less has memories of a life outside of the Orphanage. And he supposed as he stepped into the dirty, tiled floor, a rain of luke warm water cascading down his shoulders and drenching his hair, that it was the reason he still remembered his life prior to this, that he felt so desperately needy to have something to call his own.

He knew what it felt to have a large, spacious room to himself with a bed and soft mattress, your own shower with consist water pressure, and never having to worry about the pleasant water suddenly scalding your back or chilling you to the bone, or even waiting late at night in line to bathe.

He had never been rich. Far from it. But he had been comfortable and content with nearly everything his life had to offer him. It wasn't until he gazed up at the peeling letters on the front of the building and rang the dusty doorbell that he realized just how much he lost.

As he began scrubbing shampoo into his thick hair, he forced himself to stop dwelling on the negative outlooks and think about Roxas. Roxas was his first ever, even after coming to the Orphanage, and only best friend. His timing into Sora's life had been impecable. When he was taken in, Sora had been the only other older boy, so naturally, he struggled to form bonds with the other kids, due to their ages.

But Roxas was the same age, a few months off of his own birthday, and if his moon-white skin had ever lived on an island long enough to tan his skin, and his hair wasn't bleach blond and shorter, they could easily passed for twins.

After thoroughly washing his hair, he soaked a small loofa with soap and massaged his skin, cleaning off any dirt and grime that he was sure had already coated his body since waking up this morning. As he washed, he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of cinnamon apples, one of his favorite smells in the world. He imagined he was in an apple orchard with his real family, soaking up the sun as he sat in the ankle-high grass.

The simple things were the things that made him the most happy nowadays.

As he rinsed off the last of the suds adorning his thin frame, he noticed that the tips of his fingers were wrinkled like raisins. He had been in the shower for too long, though it didn't seem long enough to him. He felt his stomach suddenly lurch with hunger and he realized he really did need to hurry up if he wanted breakfast.

Breakfast at the Orphanage meant every man for himself, and you had to be first at the table to get the best rations. That in mind, Sora twisted the cool knob of the shower until the water barely trickled and he stepped out, first drying his thick hair before patting down his damp skin. He wiped the condensation from a single, small mirror and he fumbled in his personal container for his toothbrush.

After brushing his teeth and combing unsuccessfully through his spiky hair, he returned all his toiletries into his container and swapped it in the closet for a small stack of clothes, which he carried with him back into the room. He knew it would be empty, considering breakfast was right around the corner, and he absently hoped that Roxas saved him a seat.

He dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of red shorts and a black t-shirt before carefully clapsing a small chain around his neck. There was a small three-point crown pendant at the end of the chain, engraved with his initials: SAH. After the photo, it was the only other thing that he had from his previous childhood, and he considered it his most prized possession. Even Roxas had hardly ever touched it.

A shrill bell ringing caught his ears and brought him out of his stupor. The raid for breakfast had officially begun, and he knew if he wanted to get something to eat, he was going to have to hurry. He slipped on a pair of plain black socks and tied up some worn sneakers quickly before descending down the stairs.

* * *

"So, are you coming over tonight or what?" A voice barked over the phone, only slightly agitated at the person on the other line. In his right hand, he tossed a ball moodily in his hand, alternating between tossing and throwing it against the wall and catching it as it bounced back.

"Are you going to do something other than mope around about how badly your life sucks?" The voice on the other line countered smoothly.

"Riku, honey, we're leaving!" A chorus of voices called down from the front door before he heard the distant click of the lock in place.

"Whatever," he growled deeply in annoyance, forgetting for a moment that he was still on the phone until he heard a huff from the other line, which he deftly chose to ignore. "They left," he added in a sullen voice.

"Maybe it's just a fluke. Nothing will come out of it. You're just being paranoid."

"The hell I am."

He tossed the ball for another ten minutes trying to control the flood of confusion and sharp pain that ran hot through his blood as he barely listened to one of his only friends that he had left talk nonchalantly on the phone. He let the ball fall into the covers and he flipped over on his flat stomach, covering his head with his heavy, navy blue comforter, ignoring his friend who was still insistently talking on the other line, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't getting a reply.

He closed his stern, aquamarine eyes and exhaled deeply, his mind whirring out of control, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of his pillow angrily, running through as many curse words as he knew of and clenching his teeth in bare hatred.

He hated his mom and he hated his dad and he hated what they were doing to him. He hated how badly life dealt him this infuriating hand. They were no foster family of any kind. So what in the world did they want with another kid? Wasn't one enough? Or did they so easily move on after the death of their second?

He fisted his blankets, biting his tongue to keep himself from screaming out loud as every muscle protested against his passiveness and every fiber of his being tensed at his current situation.

Nine months. Nine months until he would finally turn eighteen and he could leave for good. Get out of this town and the forbidding memories and scars and leave it behind. One more trecharous year of high school, enduring pity and concern and gossip about how he lost it, and he was done. He would go somewhere where no one knew him, no one could stare down on him with sad, accusing eyes.

Where he didn't have to face the truth anymore. It was too painful, and what his parents were doing now was unforgiveable, as if they were bestowing their own pain and hurt on him as if he hadn't dealt with enough as it was already.

They had the room. Space and money wasn't a problem. He lifted his head from beneath his covers, narrowed eyes darting over towards his abandoned phone, which his friend had long already decided to hang up. Though Riku wasn't so sure he realized right away that he was merely talking to himself. He gritted his teeth and threw his phone against the wall, effectively separating it from its battery so he wouldn't have to worry about anyone calling him.

The violence may not have been necessary, but when it came to Riku's domineer, it was his best way of expressing himself. He sighed, exhaustion setting in as the self-hatred and anger took its toll on his body. He looked around his room wearily.

His personal room was large enough to hold several more king-sized beds than the one that was already centered, mahogany headboard resting against a plain white wall. To the right of his bed, was a huge desk, a few textbooks stacked next to slightly rolled and stepped-on notebooks. He had a fancy laptop that connected to a separate monitor nearly as big as the plasma flat screen television standing in a mahogany cabinet.

Inside the doors of the cabinet, were each different game station, along with controls and numerous stacks of videogames. Next to the fixture stood several case holders that were filled top to bottom with DVDs.

Forming a semi-circle around the t.v. was a jet black futon and two, large beanbag chairs, and a rug slid underneath the furniture. To the left of his bed was his closet, which was the size of a normal bedroom, overstuffed with clothes, school uniforms, and shoes. Next to the closet, was his bathroom, marbeled floors, dark gray walls, and complete with a Jacuzzi tub and steam shower.

He glanced at his nearly empty walls, void of everything except for an adoration of guitars, ranging from Les Pauls to Gibsons of various colors, and then he returned his attention to one wall that was an entire window right across from his doorframe. He sighed as he stared out at the glass, overlooking an evergreen forest, masked in the late stages of sunset, casting dark shadows across his room.

It never looked quite so beautiful until he wanted to smash his fist into it and shatter the image, because it was all just a fraud. The view may have been spectacular, but beyond it was the cold, unforgiving world.

He didn't used to be so cold-hearted and shut off from the rest of the world. He had become desolate among his very own family, even now, after two years. Two long, unbearable years, and it still probed at him. He wasn't one of those material-oriented people, though first impressions often told otherwise.

Yes, his family was rich. Very wealthy. They lived in what couldn't be considered a normal house nor a mansion, more than three stories high and over five thousand square feet, patio and pool built into an entire outdoor living area with a grill and fireplace, everything built upon marble tops.

He even owned a sleek, silver Cadillac that he had gotten on his sixteenth birthday; and had it replaced after it was totaled.

But other than his expensive car, the pool, and his room, Riku found himself disinterested in everything and everyone. The house was far too big and far too lonely for him to venture elsewhere. Which became one of the reasons he secluded himself from others.

The walls in his room heard so much more than the people in his life. He distanced himself from his friends and the arrogant smirk that he was notoriously known for had flipped into a near permanent scowl. He delveloped what his former friends had called the poker face, expresionless eyes and impenetrable walls built around his person. He refused to let himself get hurt and abandoned again.

Years of practice yielded him nearly perfect, and with a single sentence spoken by his mom and dad, it crumbled. As if anyone or anything could ever fill the void massing in his heart, as if he was okay and accepting of someone to be ripped out of his life again.

Growling, he sat up abruptly in bed and left his room, slamming the door hard against its frame, shaking the hinges, and neglecting to pick up his scattered phone pieces. He stalked moodily down the hall, fists clenched, footsteps echoing loudly throughout the empty house, and burst through the front door. He shoved his hand into his front jeans pocket and stalked towards his Cadillac, unlocked the door and slammed the car into gear, enjoying with bitter satisfaction the protesting roar as the engine came to life.

Neglecting his seatbelt, he jammed his foot into the gas pedal. He needed a long, fast drive to clear his head. And he knew exactly where he was headed.

* * *

When Sora reached the kitchen on the first floor, he realized his shower had taken way too long, and his face fell as he looked at several platters of bacon and eggs that had been reduced to nothing more than a few crumbs or bites. His stomach growled impatiently as if reprimending him for taking so long in the shower.

In a house, if it could be called such a thing, holding more than twenty starving children, it was survival of the fittest. It was eat or go hungry, and Sora realized he was unfortunately skipping breakfast today. Roxas was one of the few still seated, nibbling on the end of his fork as he stared blankly at the stark clean bowl infront of him, thinking.

Only when Sora sat down next to him, the old, wooden chair creaking loudly against the tiled floor, did he tear his gaze away from his plate.

"Eat up," he said quickly, moving his hand, which Sora had suddenly realized was positioned underneath the table, and revealing a plate with a good portion of eggs and several slices of bacon.

A wide grin plastered across Sora's face as he quickly grabbed the plate and began wolfing down the food. "Thanks, Rox," he attempted, cheeks slightly stuffed as he chewed, before swallowing hard and taking a sip of Roxas' glass. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

The blond shrugged his shoulders, clinking the fork across his teeth. "You'd starve, that's what." But he smiled at the genuine look of thanks that his best friend was giving him. After a few minutes of silence, he cleared his throat. "Hurry up. Aerith has a couple coming in today," his smile faltered.

Sora munched hungrily on a bacon slice. "Why does that concern us?"

"Because apparently this couple is looking at some older kids," Roxas said in a warning tone, catching Sora off guard. It had been four years since anyone had taken any remote interest in him.

There could only be two logical explanations for this reason, the first being that Sora was a bad kid. Except he wasn't. He obeyed when people told him to do something, he never spoke back and couldn't remember the last time he had ever copt an attitude with an elder.

But he wasn't a happy kid either. After the first twelve foster homes proved to be disasterous, he decided to give up completely. It wasn't worth his time and effort to try and please a family that had high standards, and then just be dropped back at the Orphanage. If he had any charm and laughter, which he was quite positive he did have, he never used it, resorting to being overly shy and meticulous.

He could only give himself partial credit, however, because often times, parents and their rising expectations would cause him to fall short. He didn't want a new family; didn't want to start all over, pretend that this new "mom" who wore too much make-up and used him as show like a zoo animal to pronounce her cause to help humanity, and didn't want to give up hope every single time, blinded to think that maybe this next family would be the one that he was meant to stay with.

No. Life had already refused him so much. He chewed slowly this time, contemplating the news that Roxas had just explained. He had thought Aerith had given up a long time ago; twelve families was too much for him then, and she had known it. If Roxas hadn't mysteriously come into his life, he was sure he wouldn't be here right now.

Sighing, he folded his hands in his lap, ignoring the few bites of egg he still had left untouched on his plate. Roxas noticed his sudden mood change and quickly drew him into a tight hug, face obscured by Sora's unruly hair for a few moments. "Don't worry about it, Sora," he urged. "Remember what I used to tell you?"

A sad smile planted on the boy's tan face. "Destiny brought us together for some reason," he whispered quietly between them, like it was a lethal secret that could be overheard by no one. "I still don't really know what that means."

Roxas smirked, ruffling Sora's hair good-naturedly. "It means it was no coincidence that we met and both became best friends. Everything will work itself out in the end; it always does."

"Geez, you sound like a philosopher," Sora teased, rolling his eyes at Roxas' uncharacteristic statement. He knew deep down inside that the blond was just telling him in a fancy way that they were never going to be separated. But he still had his doubts. Destiny had never been on his side to begin with. It was just mocking him, lending him a hand and then jerking his feet out beneath him when he finally got the courage to stand.

"Just trust me."

"I guess," he drawled, uncertainly. But before Roxas had a chance to open his mouth to argue, a rather tall woman with long, plaited brown hair came into the kitchen.

"Sora, Roxas, what are you two still doing in here?" Aerith asked, straightening her coral dress that hung over her brown boots.

"Just finishing breakfast," Sora said hastily, clattering his plate on top of Roxas' as he stood up.

Aerith studied him with concerned, green eyes, chewing dutifully on her bottom lip. Aerith had always been like a mother figure towards Sora; he admired her persistance and will to continue to help orphaned and abandoned children, even when she doubted she could find them a home.

Which was much like the situation with Sora. He appreciated it at first, believeing that she too knew he would find the one, maybe not the first or second or third time around, but eventually he would. But she didn't know when to stop. She should have given up trying to find him a home long before Roxas even dropped into the picture, and her strong fight to ensure him happiness had left the hope drained from him.

"Well, everyone else is in the play room, so go ahead and just stack your plates in the sink," she said calmly, watching as the two best friends did her bidding. They followed her quickly down the carpeted hallway into an office room that linked with another room. To Sora, it looked like it was a dining room, living room set-up, but Aerith had turned the smaller room into her cluttered office and a sort of interogation room where she talked with her hopefuly foster parents and adoptees.

In the second room that was divided by a single doorway, was several lounge chairs hugging the plain walls and a small table with an abandoned game of monopoly strewn across the top. There were two small cabinets along the wall across the door that held a stack of old board games. A few more children were sporatically sitting around the room, two playing a wild game of checkers.

As soon as Sora stepped through the threshold, his entire domineer abruptly changed. He pursed his lips into a slight frown and his jaw set tight and he glued his eyes to the old, blue carpet. It was facade that he had begun to develop long before Roxas ever dropped into the Orphanage.

His immediate goal was one of two things: to stand out as least as possible and not draw attention to himself, which was a difficult feat in itself considering his unruly chocolate brown spikes and emaculate blue eyes tended to stand out among crowds, and to make himself look entirely unapproachable. The last thing he wanted was a family even remotely interested in him.

He didn't want to start over anymore, and he didn't want to raise his hopes up to only find himself thrown needlessly back into the Orphanage. Twelve families were too much, and he dared never to dash his hopes again.

* * *

Obviously, Playing With Fire is undergoing some intense revising, and for several reasons:

1) I want to make my stories less predictable, and not describe everything about each character right as they are introduced. I want my readers to find out more about the characters as they read and along the way, discover new things about them.

2) I want this story and others to become much more chronologically realistic and some events that occur, I am taking out, and some I am keeping in. Also, I am going to be adding much more conversation between characters in different settings, so that the story doesn't just jump from angsty event to angsty event.

3) This is my wish for all my stories, and I will be constantly fixing them up, this one being my first priority. Before I finish writing the last few chapters, which I was so close to, I am going to rewrite everything as I see fit and see where it takes me. Hopefully, the updates will not take too long, since I am only fixing a few things up.

4) Then of course, as everybody can tell, I realigned the paragraphs correctly, and I am going to stop replying to reviewers on the chapters and just reply to them through e-mail or review replies. So everything is going through a lot of changes. I wasn't sure how to fix all these new chapters without having to start a completely new story over again and without being able to send everyone an update about it, so I am going to do my best and fix everything.

-xcontagiousx-


	2. Chapter 2

Sora lost everything in a fire. Now orphaned, he is fostered to a rich, upscale family that already has a less than welcoming son, Riku. Struggle ensues as these two opposite scale brothers learn about each other, their pasts, and themselves.

UNDERGOING INTENSE REVISING UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

* * *

"I thought I was coming over," a tall blond inquired as Riku stepped out of his exhausted Cadillac, slamming the door and leaving the keys sitting in the driver's seat.

"I needed to get out of there," he growled, shoving by his friend and stalking into the house.

The blond's bright blue eyes widened and he rubbed the back of his head nervously as he sighed and closed his front door, following Riku. "Sure, you can barge right on in. It's not your house or anything, hell, you weren't even invited, but sure, come on in."

"Quit whining, Cloud," Riku retorted, his voice carrying from the foyer as he stomped up through his best friend's house and up the stairs to his room. Cloud rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.

"I like how you rampage around _my_ house like _you_ own the place," he retorted, stepping into his own room just as Riku collapsed, sprawled out on his ruby comforter. He raised an eyebrow as he seated himself on a black cot in the corner of his room. "So you leave the confinement of your room just to lay down in mine?"

"Cloud!" Riku groaned, shoving his head underneath one of Cloud's pillows. "I'm not in the fucking mood!" The silver haired teen slumped against the mattress and even across the room, Cloud could see he was visibly shaking. The blond sighed, shaking his head.

"You know they haven't gone home yet," he muttered, trying to strike some sort of conversation with his moody friend. "There's more chance that they'll come back empty handed than anything."

"I wouldn't know," Riku growled, his voice slightly muffled against the pillow. "I might have broken my phone," he added sheepishly, resisting the urge to look up and see the incredulous look on Cloud's face.

"Better than breaking noses," he smirked, earning him a grumble of laughter. After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Riku finally lifted his head, resting his chin solemnly on the pillow.

He sighed, his voice cracking, "I just don't know what to do anymore, Cloud. I can't go through this again." Cloud had an aching retort at the tip of his tongue, but his best friend's tone made him hesitate.

Riku was never one to show emotion, even years prior to his sudden isolation. He face was delude of happiness and laughter. Only a select few could manage even a smile out of him. But Riku's voice was caked with desperation that Cloud hadn't heard in over a year and a half. He caught the loathing fear flashing through Riku's intense eyes and the frown on his face looked more dull than he thought possible.

"If you had to go through anything else, we would be talking through glass at either an insane assylum or prison," Cloud agreed bleakly, standing to his feet and cautiously walking over to his friend, sitting on the edge of the bed carefully. When Riku was emotionally unstable, which seemed to become more frequent since he had known the kid, he was prone to lashing out like a venomous snake over anything.

He was a ticking time bomb, ready for anything to set him off. Slowly, he placed a hand on Riku's shoulder and was shocked to find it was still trembling. "Riku," he sighed, leaning down and hugging his friend tightly, screw the backlash.

Physical contact was another thing that Riku had tended to shy away from nowadays, so it truly surprised Riku that he was allowing it now. It proved how much turmoil was conflicting the teen. Riku stiffened at the touch. Between him and his friends, affection was never really shown, and as much as he clenched his teeth and inwardly groaned that Cloud would now have blackmail against him, he appreciated it all the same.

After isolating himself from nearly everyone who was close to him, it was a rare gesture. He wasn't even on good speaking terms with his own parents, least of all his few friends. And while he allowed the hug, he point blank refused to cry. He was no longer capable of displaying that emotion.

So although tears refused to wet his cheeks, his breathing was still ragged and heaving as if he had been doing so. It took a few more minutes for Riku's breathing to slow down and his body to stop trembling and as soon as he overcame the sudden overwhelming grief, he immediately returned to his old facade.

"You can get off of me now, Cloud," he said gruffly, "I don't need to be coddled like a baby."

Cloud grinned as he rolled his eyes, listening to his friend and stepping away as the silver haired teen drew himself into a sitting position. "Whatever you say, Riku. But someone always needs a shoulder to lean on sometime or another."

Riku just snorted. "Do you mind if I stay here for a little bit?" he asked almost quietly, nervously playing with his pale fingers in his lap. He was utterly uncomfortable with what his best friend had just witnessed.

Cloud's eyes widened in humor. "So the stoic Riku gets babied and actually asks if he can stay? Damn, pinch me, would you?" He grinned mischeiviously.

"I'll do more than pinch you. I'll beat your fucking ass," Riku threatened half-heartedly, too exhausted to really put any venom behind his words. Cloud just laughed good-naturedly.

"Don't want to go pushing away the only friend you have," he mumbled teasingly.

Riku's expression soured. "No, I guess I don't," he said in agreement, much to Cloud's surprise and his own expense. He sighed loudly, running a hand through his silver hair tiredly. It had already proved to be a rotten day, and it wasn't past noon yet. He was tense and his emotions were still swirling around his head in a confusing whir of anger, betrayal, and hurt. Hurt beyond belief.

He remembered the last time his heart had felt so heavy and the mere thought of it made him feel nauseas and uneasy. He hid his face in his hands, his fingers deftly pulling at his bangs. This couldn't be happening to him again. Whoever said history repeats itself was a bitch, he decided instantly. He had tried so hard to escape the truth, but how could he when reality was slapping it across his face?

He supposed he should take his friend's advice. After all, what were the chances really that his parents were going to come back with a kid the first day out searching? He decided, at least for the time being, to take a page out of Cloud's book and relax and hope for the best.

Cloud, noting Riku's sudden relaxation, breathed a sigh of relief. "You want breakfast? I could bet money that you didn't eat."

Riku rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he grumbled, straightening up and sauntering out of Cloud's bedroom. Cloud smiled, following him.

Riku would be fine for now. But that's what always put him on edge. Riku was unpredictable. One minute you were walking on eggshells with him, and the other he was a docile dog turned against his owner.

He was almost positive that Riku would be fine for the rest of the day. Almost. It wouldn't be the first time Riku snapped from a perfectly good mood. It happened before. And Cloud could also bet money that it was sure to happen again. And soon.

* * *

"Welcome to Hollow Bastian Orphanage, Mr. and Mrs. Masaki. My name is Aerith Gainsborough," A tall woman politely offered her hand as she ushered the couple in eagerly.

"Please call me Tifa," the woman said, straightening the wrinkles from her charcoal pencil skirt. She was tall and pale with straight black hair that fell down the small of her back. Aerith immeadiately determined that she and her husband, clad in a business suit, silver hair angling his square jaw, were fairly wealthy. She introduced her husband, Zexion, in a very business-like way before sitting in one of the open chairs in front of Aerith's desk.

"Before we begin, I just want to brief you on the adoption process and our program," Aerith continued in a chorusing voice, rummaging through stacks of paper as she began speaking.

As prestigious a listener she was, Tifa could not help but be instantly drawn to the room across theirs, where a few children were quietly sitting around a room, for the most part keeping to themselves. She felt warm fingers slide between hers and she looked up at her husband, smiling sadly. Every single child in the room couldn't have been older than Vanitas before he passed away.

He squeezed her hand encouragingly and she took a deep breath. She wanted this. Her husband wanted it. Once Riku was out of college, they were alone, although it wasn't as if his presence the past year and a half had graced them at all with his company. Riku was already so far gone and it broke her heart to know that when he left the house for good, the void they felt now would be no different.

She barely caught Aerith's words, "We have some wonderful children here," when her heart skipped a beat and her grip tightened painfully around Zexion's hands. There was a pale blond boy nudging his friend, who looked up. She was met with a pair of sad, captivating blue eyes framed with odd, spikey locks of hair. The boy saw her gaze and jerked his head away quickly, gluing his eyes to the floor, but not before Tifa saw the fear flash across his tan features.

Her muscles went rigid and one word crossed her mind hauntingly. _Vanitas. _She blinked several times before she realized she was holding her breath and staring at the brunette boy. "I'm sorry," she began quickly, interrupting Aerith as she droned on, "but who is that boy in the far corner?"

Zexion looked sharply to her, a questioning glance in his eyes. She nudged him with their interlocked fingers, leaning forward in her seat as Aerith paused, sighing.

She didn't want to put Sora into another foster home. Not after the first too many disasterous attempts. Each re-run had taken a considerable toll on the boy and she had feared every single morning that her trials to find him the perfect home had been in vain. She had pushed too far and too long for the poor child, so it was with great hesitation that she answered the expectant couple.

"That is Sora Hikari," she said slowly, noticing the way Tifa and Zexion merely seemed to hear her but not listen to the complexity of her words. "He's the veteran around here. He came in when he was six, hasn't left this place for eight years," she explained sadly.

He didn't deserve to have to fit himself into another family's lives. All the boy's previous adoptions ended with him taking the shorter end of the stick, bearing the blame that it was his fault he had not worked out with the adopting family, when all along, Aerith had never had a single problem with him.

"He's been through twelve different foster families-"

"Honey," Tifa gasped, staring wide-eyed at her husband, "He resembles him so much."

A grim expression clouded Zexion's face. He sighed deeply, "I know."

Aerith's eyes flitted between them nervously. She had seen many families that were charmed with Sora's beatiful face and shy exterior, but none of them wanted to know about his inner turmoil. She fidgeted for a moment before she made a split-second decision, purely out of desperation.

Sora would never forgive her for selling Roxas out like that. If he hadn't come into the picture, she wasn't sure where he would be right now.

"Now Roxas here is a charming young boy, very intelligent. He's only been placed in one foster home who were unable to keep him because of a financial situation-"

"Can we see Sora?" Tifa asked unperturbed, still leaning forward in her seat.

Aerith's face darkened slightly as she managed to keep her tone polite. "O-Of course." She stood up slowly, flicking her long braid off her shoulder before turning to face them. "Look, I know Sora is a handsome young boy. Everyone seems to believe he is the main attraction, but he's not some animal to look at. There's a reason why he hasn't lasted more than five months in a foster home," she ground out bitterly, her mind whirring. She had to think of something to convince this family to look at another child.

"Nonsense," Tifa said sharply, shaking her head. "Ms. Gainsborough, I understand that this must be a delicate situation. However, you are misguided if you think we are like every other family," she said testily. Zexion's hand came down quickly and cautiously on her shoulder.

Aerith pursed her lips slightly as she nodded and walked across the room to retrieve Sora, slightly put-out.

Zexion looked worriedly at his wife, his brow furrowing. "Tifa, I'm not so sure this is a good idea anymore."

Tifa took a steady breath, softening her gaze."Of course it is," she replied determinedly. "I just don't believe there is justice in perceiving that we are going to be the same as those other families," she stated in a matter-of-factly. Zexion leaned further back in his seat, sighing. When his wife became self-righteous, it was better to let her be and calm down.

When Aerith returned, the small brunette boy was right on her heels, his face downcast and his eyes darting nervously between Aerith and the door.

"Hi, Sora," She began, noticing his timidness. "I'm Tifa and this is my husband, Zexion. We're very pleased to meet you."

Sora peered carefully through his chocolate bangs, eyeing the couple. The woman was sitting straight in her chair, her legs crossed professionally. He bit his lip under their scrutinizing stares.

"Go ahead and take a seat, Sora," Aerith said, pushing her rolling chair from behind her desk. He nodded and obeyed silently, thankful that the desk somewhat blocked the rest of his body.

"Would you like to tell us about yourself?" Tifa asked, smiling brightly at the quiet brunette. He chanced a glance at the woman, whose voice seemed almost stern at first, but then she spoke so softly to him.

"Umm, I," he stammered.

"Why don't we tell you a little about ourselves first?" Tifa offered, quickly upon his uncertainty.

"Okay."

She smiled, leaning forward in her seat again. "Well, as you already know, I'm Tifa. I'm a book publisher and writer. Do you like to write?"

"I guess," he shrugged, hoping that she wouldn't pry further.

Tifa seemed to sense that she wasn't going to get anywhere without asking him direct questions, so she changed her tactics.

"Why don't we start with some basics?" She suggested. "When's your birthday, Sora?"

"A-April twenty-fifth," he mumbled, gripping the underside of his chair tightly.

"What do you like to do? What are some of your favorite hobbies?"

"I...uhh," He shrugged, unwilling to answer to strangers. He wasn't about to give any part of himself away when so much had been taken from him before. But Tifa was relentless in her interogation. Granted, she seemed nice enough and she was actually quite patient with his hesitation and less-than eagerness.

"Do you remember your family well?"

He wavered at this, choking tears welling up in his large eyes. He did remember.

_Thick black smoke, billowing throughout the house, stinging his eyes and burning his throat. Piercing screams, cries as he fought against strong arms pinning him down, calling for his mom and dad. Small drips of blood running freely down his raw throat. His shoulder was wrenched in pain and he gasped as his captors' tightened their grip on him. _

"I think that's enough for right now," Aerith interjected suddenly, placing a hand on Sora's shoulder and noticing how he jerked his head to her hand, his body going rigid. "Sora,why don't you go on up to your room?"

He nodded, trying to hide his trembling bottom lip, biting it. He nodded his consent and stood up, crossing the office when Tifa reached out and took his hand gently. He glanced down, fear and weariness clouding his eyes. "I'm terribly sorry, dear," she said softly, her thumb stroking his palm soothingly. Worry emanated from her face and some of the fear faded.

How long had it been since someone had shown him such kindness and motherly tendancies? She reached upwards and he nearly flinched but restrained himself as she brushed a single tear falling from his cheek. He gasped sooftly at her tender touch, unable to form a coherent thought.

As he left the room, he heard Aerith pipe in again.

"We have some other children who don't bear such heavy burdens as Sora," she began, her tone low and saddened at Sora's emotional state.

"I think we have chosen," Zexion said, clearing his throat loudly as he looked at the longing glaze in his wife's eyes.

Aerith looked between them again, sighing at determination in their eyes.

"Are you sure you want to follow through with this, Mrs. Masaki?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course," Tifa answered swiftly, sitting upright in her chair once more, ready to continue with business. She ran a manicured hand through her hair.

"I caution you only because of Sora's history with previous foster parents. He's our eldest child here and he's been here the longest. There's a reason behind it," She reminded them again, in a last-ditch effort to make them consider their decision."Families gave up on him, and he's given up on them."

Tifa simply shook her head, silencing the woman. "I guess he just didn't find the right family then."

Zexion placed a hand on her knee, reminding his wife that this was a humane matter, not business and politics. "What Tifa means to say," he started, eyeing her sternly, "is we understand what Sora has been through, but she, we, are confident that this is what we want."

Aerith nodded solemnly. "In that case, there is some paperwork you both will need to fill out." As she rounded her desk, opening metal drawers and removing several manila folders, she added under her breath, "But you don't. You don't understand. You have no idea what he's been through."

* * *

As soon as he got out of earshot, Sora ran, scaling the steps two at a time until he burst into the room, and throwing himself into his old mattress, tears flowing freely as he slammed his head underneath his pillow.

It wasn't fair. How could Aerith have let something happen like this? Didn't she tell them that he never lasted long in a new foster home? She probably did the best she could. That family was stubborn, ruthless in their questioning. Why did they want him? How could he possibly fit in with some elite, high-class family? Was it for some charity to boost their reputation in a city?

He didn't even hear anyone come in until he felt a familiar hand gently pat his back.

"Sora, everything's going to be okay," Roxas promised him in a serious tone. That's when he knew it was bad. He was going away. After eight years. He rolled over stiffly on his side, his eyes red with tears. Before he could reacy, Roxas drew him into a tight embrace, one hand ruffling his untidy brown spikes and the other rubbing his back in sotting circles. They had nothing to say to each other. What really could they when you were about to be separated from the one person who dug you out of your deepest hole?

"Everything's going to be okay," Roxas said again, almost as if he was tyring to assure himself more than Sora.

Sora drew away from him, shaking his head and rubbing his swollen eyes. "H-How can you s-say that e-everything is g-going to be okay?" He shuddered, his breathing becoming labored with each word.

Roxas' eyes widenened. "Sora, calm down!" But the brunette was already gone. He was shaking violently and hyperventilating, his head becoming dizzy as he tried to suck in glups of air. "Sora, snap out of it!" Roxas growled, shaking his shoulders roughly.

"I w-won't go...I can't...I-It's n-not fair!" Sora started to hide his head in his hands, but Roxas pinned his arms to his side.

"Sora, calm down," he said softly this time, relieved when Sora visibly relaxed and took longer, deeper breaths. He was lucky this time; Sora hadn't had an anxiety attack in a long while, but when he did have them, it was tricky to get him out of it. It was worse, much worse when he had first met the boy.

"Destiny, kid, destiny. This is a great oppurtunity, Sora. Maybe this is the family you've been waiting for."

Sora looked at him, his eyes focusing and he shook his head, still breathing in a slightly irregular pattern. He wasn't convinced at all, but he wasn't about to say anything to ruin the mood even more. They sat in a contemplative silence for what seemed like a long time. Sora toyed with the wrinkles in the old bedsheet while Roxas twirled around two rings, a black one and a white one, on his fingers.

He couldn't imagine life without Roxas. They were best friends, even more than that. More like brothers. One time being separated from each other had done enough ,

Eventually, Aerith knocked quietly on the door, disrupting their silence. "Sora, hun, you need to start packing your things." She said from behind the door. She didn't want to intrude on Sora and Roxas's space. She knew more than anyone the importance and astuonding effect Roxas had on Sora's miserable life at the orphanage.

Sora sighed heavily, laying his head on his best friend's shoulder, feeling Roxas lean his head down in turn. The blond probed at his fingers for a few more moments before he spoke up.

"Hey, Sora? I want you to have this before you leave," he said quietly, prying the black one from his finger.

Sora immeadiately shook his head. "No," he refused blatantly. Roxas's rings were like his crown pendant; the last memory the blond had left of his family. "No."

"I want you to have it."

He put his hands up to stop Roxas from finishing taking it off his knuckle. "Rox, that was your mom and dad's. I can't take that."

Scowling at Sora's refusal, Roxas pulled Sora's chain from his neck and slipped the ring on so that it fell next to the small crown charm. "This is so you'll always remember me," he said firmly, straightening the chain around Sora's neck before sitting back.

"I wouldn't forget you, doofus," Sora joked weakly.

Roxas slung his arm around his best friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, I know. I'm pretty hard to forget," He said smugly, earning him a shove in the ribs. He winced slightly in pain but the sound of Sora's quite laughter was worth it. "Really though, you're the most important thing to me, Sora. I want you to be happy, even if we're separated, and we don't end up in that big house with our own video games and fridge."

"Roxas, stop," Sora sniffed lightly. "You're going to make me cry again. You're not just going to turn into some memory that fades away."

"Damn, Sora. Who knew you were so...poetic?"

Sora laughed again, wiping the corners of his eyes quickly. His eyes went downcast as he strained to look at the ring now hanging around his neck. It was black and sleek, but it meant more than all the rare-cut diamonds in the world. "Thanks Roxas."

He nodded, standing up to his feet and holding his hand out.

"Come on, I'll help you get your stuff.

In less than an hour, Sora found himself staring dejectedly out the window of the back seat of a large, black Hummer. At his feet was a small plastic bag carrying the few changes of clothes he had, and his toiletries containter sat firmly under his arm. The frayed photo was tucked neatly in the waistband of his shorts. He especially didn't want anything to happen to that and he often touched his side carefully to make sure it was still there.

As he watched the scores of trees fly past the window, he fingered the ring Roxas gave him, sighing inaudibly. Now he had two remnants of a time when he was truly happy. The ving spoke volumes of the strength of their friendship.

Tifa turned in the passenger seat, her brown eyes suddenly soft and inviting. It startled Sora how her facial expressions could so easily change from being strong and proud to being soft and kind. "I'm sure you'll love our home, Sora," She said humbly. "We have a guest bedroom, but I think you might like Vanitas's bedroom better. You can decide of course," She added hastily.

Sora peered over at Zexion in front of him and noticed the man's shoulders tense while his wife was speaking. He gulped, hoping this man already didn't like him. He hadn't even lasted an hour under their watch.

"Vanitas was our son," Tifa continued softly, her face falling ever so slightly. It was strange that this strong, clearly independent woman could look quite so miserable. "He passed away over two years ago," She explained. "His room is still intact."

Sora felt his chest tighten, as two things dawned on him. One, that Tifa was suggesting that he sleep in her deceased son's room, something that made him feel queasy, and the other, that maybe Tifa and hre husband were longingly expecting some kind of reincarnation of their son.

The sinking in his chest grew worse. This was going to be no different than the other families. They all had certain expectations that they wanted out of him, and when he didn't fit their criteria, they blamed him.

The Hummer suddenly took a sharp left and the trees disappeared, replaced by a large, green yard over the length of a football field. Sora's jaw dropped in awe as they pulled up to the front of at least a three-story, monstrous house. It was a Victorian styled home, sporting large white pillars that framed the doorway.

Sora had never seen a house so big, not even on television, which only further added to his fear that this couple, this family, was way out of his league. He tightened his grip around Roxas's ring and brushed his hip for assurance that his photo was there. He had no place here.

As they braked to a full stop and Sora saw a frown etched on Zexion's face.

"The Cadillac's gone."

Tifa sighed, running her hand through her long hair. "He probably just needed to clear his head."

He? Who was "he"? There was too much to think about already and his mind was so jumbled that he decided to just forget whoever "he" was and focus on the more important things, like how in the world he was going to keep from getting lost in such a large estate.

Zexion was the first to get out of the car, walking around the front and to Sora's surprise, opening the door for his wife. He had never seen a single family do that before. They walked back around and Tifa opened the door for him. "Come on," She encouraged brightly.

He nervously undid his seatbelt and grasped his few belongings, hobbling out of the car. "I can grab your stuff for you, Sora," Tifa offered, already leaning down to take his container. He nodded dumbly, unsure of what else he should do. His eyes washed over the front of the house, which seemed twice as large as they neared the front door.

"Come on, Sora," She ushered him gently towards the glossy door where Zexion was, fumbling with a set of shiny keys. "Let's go ahead and show you inside."

* * *

Riku glanced wearily at the time on his radio as he pulled slowly into their driveway, noting it was nearly nine at night. He had been gone for more than just a few hours, more like the entire day, and had he not ran out of gas, he probably wouldn't have been back yet.

He left Cloud's after lunch, annoyed at the blond's obvious attempts to keep his mind off of his parent's sudden interest. There was only so much coddling he could take from his friends before it drove him past the brink of sanity, which he wavered near even now. After leaving, he drove around the town for a while, making a stop by his only other good friend, Kairi's workplace to vent some more. And still, nothing seemed to quell his anger.

He parked quickly, noticing that the Hummer was back. _So they're home. _He scoffed bitterly to himself. He didn't feel much like dealing with his parents right now. His excessive car ride may have calmed him enough to come home and allow him to gain some control over his emotions, but he was still undeniably furious with them. Grumbling, he parked and shoved the keys into his pocket before stalking inside.

He moodily climbed the stairs, hoping he would be able to avoid his parents and just stay shut up in his room for the rest of the night. So far so good. He was crossing a large carpeted hallway when he passed his little brother's abandoned room. The door was slightly open and a small source of light crept underneath the door.

Riku raised an eyebrow suspiciously, his heart siezing his blood running cold. Vanitas's door had been shut tight since the boy's funeral two years ago. Guardedly, he peered into the room, his icy eyes going wide and his heart pounding in his ears.

A familiar spiky head stood, framed against the dim lamp casting shadows across the room. Riku's breath caught in his throat. He was tinier than he remembered. Wait a minute though. He was seeing things. Vanitas was dead. He had been dead for a while now.

He couldn't help himself. A tiny flutter of hope shot through his heart. "Vanitas?"

The shadowed figure jumped in fright at his deep voice and he turned. Riku saw large, unfamiliar cerulean blue eyes widen in spurprise. What the hell? He reached around and flicked on the second set of lights, illuminating the room.

"Who the fuck are you?" He demanded loudly, causing the boy to cower backwards. "I said who are you?" He said again, glaring fiercly at the boy, making him flinch. The brunette opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing but a small gasp ever came out.

"What's the matter with you?" Riku continued scolding him. "Mute? Cat got your tongue?"

Sora shook his head nervously, shrinking even more as the silver-haired teen opened the door all the way and stepped into the room.

The boy's, who Tifa and Zexion had deemed Zexion, was as large as the room Sora had shared with seven other kids. The walls were painted a dark crimson, a full-sized bed sitting in the middle of the room with heavy black covers. The room largely reminded Sora of Legos. Everything in the room was either blue, green, or red: the shelves, stuffed with old action figures, model cars, old photos, and trophies, the desk, strewn with binders and papers.

There was a television hanging from the wall across the bed and below it were various game systems, the controllers all pulled out. Tifa wasn't exaggerating when she said that they had left the room completely untouched since the death of their son.

The boy before him crossed his arms, looking as tall and elegant as his mother, silver hair like his dad's that splayed around his face, very pale features, but his eyes were cruel and daunting.

"Who are you?" He asked again, his words dripping with venom as he took a step closer, his fists clenched and shaking. Sora gulped, dropping his belongings as he fearfully backed away again.

Suddenly, a voice rang out and Sora sighed heavily. "Riku? Ahh, there you are," Tifa said, entering the tense room. Sora looked between them, momentarily confused before realization hit him again, full force. That was the "he" Tifa and Zexion were talking about. "I see you've already met Sora. Riku, this is your new foster brother."

If possible, Riku'e enraged glare strengthened and his lips formed in a brutal snarl. "Sora, this is our son, Riku." She placed a careful hand on the teen's shoulder and Sora half-expected him to slap her hand away. "Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes," She said sternly, narrowing her eyes at her son. It was as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, because not a second later, he turned on his heel, throwing one last disgusted look at Sora before storming out of the room and down the hall, cursing loud enough so that Sora could hear.

Sora realized his heart was jumping erratically and he forced himself to take deep breaths. The last thing he needed was to start hyperventilating in front of his new foster parents. That would go over well. Tifa walked over towards him and stooped over and picked up the bag he dropped on the floor.

"You can make yourself at home, Sora," She said, masking her shaking voice. She compulsively straightened the covers of Vanitas's bed and looked over where Sora was still frozen in place. "Sora, are you okay?" She asked gently, kneeling down to his level. He nodded, still not trusting to speak as he looked into her concerned, brown eyes.

"Have you ever owned your own room?"

He shook his head and managed, "Not one this big."

Tifa smiled at his answer, stroking his messy bangs out of his eyes. "When you get settled in, you can come on down to the kitchen," She said as she stood up.

"Umm, can I go now?" He asked shyly, following her when she nodded her head. He didn't feel like getting lost trying to find the kitchen, and he definitely didn't want another hostile run-in with Riku again. He considered himself lucky that Tifa showed up when she did.

As he mirrored Tifa's steps down a huge staircase, he grimly thought to himself. _A new record, Sora. Great. Your new family already pines hatred over you and you haven't even lasted a night here. Great. Thanks a lot, Roxas_, he muttered, _So much for this maybe being the right family._

* * *

I finally managed to completely rewrite Chapter 2. I know nothing really has changed much, but more will come soon. I'm going to be adding much more dialogue between characters and more situations with Riku and Cloud and later, Riku and Kairi. Once again, I am revising everything because I want it to be more realistic and less predictable, so I hope you like the changes.

One last note, I know that there are many spelling errors and grammar errors. For some reason, when I tried to spellcheck, I wasn't able to, so please mind the errors.

-xcontagiousx


	3. Chapter 3

Sora lost everything in a fire. Now orphaned, he is fostered to a rich, upscale family that already has a less than welcoming son, Riku. Struggle ensues as these two opposite scale brothers learn about each other, their pasts, and themselves.

UNDERGOING INTENSE REVISING UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

* * *

This was not happening to him. It just couldn't. But his luck was about as bad as his temper. He growled explicit obscenities as he crunched his fist into the wall again, denting the plaster. "Fuck!" He shouted hoarsely, only slightly thankful that his stereo was blasting so no one heard him.

He swung a violent kick towards his case of DVDs, scattering movies across the floor carelessly. "I can't believe they actually followed through with that," He continued to mutter to himself as he resorted to landing punches into his pillow before he did too much damage to his room.

That kid was not welcome here. He didn't need another brother, and he sure as hell didn't need one who so closely resembled his deceased brother. It complicated things. How the hell was he supposed to rat the kid off when every time he looked at him, he was immediately reminded of Van.

What were they playing at? How in the world did they ever think that anyone could ever replace his brother?

Furious that he already used all his gas, he set his jaw straight and his eyes narrowed dangerously. That kid was not going to replace his brother. And he was going to make sure of it. That kid was not going to stay. He wouldn't last through the week.

He sighed, his anger already wearing down on him physically, and he trotted towards the wall, where his phone still laid in pieces. He scooped up his battery and slid it back into place and powered it. Numbly, he texted Cloud, almost smugly, typing, "I fucking told you so."

He couldn't wait for Cloud's answer to that. He reached across his bed to shut the stereo off, rolling his eyes as he vaguely caught his mother's voice echoing from the kitchen, announcing dinnertime. He pressed his face into his hands, groaning in frustration. He hadn't had fifteen minutes to himself to take in everything that happened before it had to get shoved in his face again.

He heard his mother again, this time calling his name and he grumbled to himself, steeling his icy eyes and composed mask before he stalked moodily down stairs, occasionally scuffing the carpet with the heel of his foot half-heartedly.

But as soon as he entered the kitchen, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach, since he hadn't eaten since breakfast at Cloud's, he let his glare fall back into place. He had gone through enough shit, and it was time to give the intruder a taste of his own medicine.

* * *

"Sora, you've barely touched your food," Tifa commented gently, ignoring the heated glare from her son, who was seated at the end of the small table.

Sora looked up sadly from the mountain of collard greens, carrot slims, and zucchinni that surrounded a large pork chop. Any previous second thoughts about this new family had entirely left him when Tifa made him a plate and he caught a whiff of dinner. He honestly couldn't ever remember seeing so much food in his life, and as he hungrily eyed even the vegetables, his earlier encounter with Riku had become a distant memory.

But things took a downfall, though he really shouldn't have been surprised. Tifa showed him to an empty seat, which he could only assume used to be where their son sat, and as he looked down at the placemat in front of him, his face fell.

On the left side of his plate were three different forks, and on the other, two knives and a spoon. A sinking feeling landed in his chest as he realized just how elite and out of reach this family was for him. Then, before he had time to chance asking which silverware to use, Riku had sauntered in, not trying to hide the disgusted glare he shot at Sora.

His appetite suddenly dropped and he hid his eyes, staring forlonly at his plate. The worst part was, he was used to angry glares and learned quickly from his former foster homes to ignore them, but his problem at hand was much more pressing.

He glanced nervously at Tifa, eyeing the fork and knife held daintily in her hands, and he looked back to his own plate, trying to decide which utensils she was using. She gave a soft, "Oh," of apprehension and she leaned over, taking a fork and a knife from the place mat and she started cutting his pork chop for him.

"I'm sorry, Sora," She said, smiling at him, "I meant to cut it beforehand." He breathed a small sigh of relief as she cut his meat and handed him the fork and knife, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

He glanced worriedly over at Riku, who continued to shoot him loathing looks and he gulped silently. He wasn't sure what was better, that Tifa thought he wanted his food cut for him or that he really didn't know what silverware to use. Either way, it only served Riku more purpose to glare some more.

Gulping, he managed a small bite of the vegetables, trying to gain his appetite back, noting Tifa's nod of approval. Trying to ease the tension around the dinner table, Tifa returned attention to her son who rolled his eyes underneath his silver bangs.

"So, Riku, what were you doing today while we went out?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, not looking up from his plate, "I drove around a bit and went to Cloud's."

"Elbows off the table," She instructed, narrowing her eyes at her son's lack of table manners. Riku looked up, scowling, as he dropped his arms from the tabletop. Sora looked down, noticing that his own elbows were still on the table and he tried to lower them without bringing attention to himself. "Thank you. What'd you do at Cloud's?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing even remotely interesting."

At Riku's lack of conversation, Tifa returned her attention to Sora. "Have you ever been to a public school before, Sora?"

At the mention of his name, Riku threw him another glare. His cheeks flushed. "Never a full semester," he admitted softly. He hadn't made it long enough in a single home to even make it through a semester of school.

Tifa smiled at his apprehension. "Radiant Garden is a very prestigious school," She explained, "One of the best in the country. Riku is a senior there. He can show you around. It's a fairly large school; it can be easy to get lost there if you've never been before."

Sora couldn't help himself; he chanced yet another look at Riku. Instead, he silver-haired teen was glaring so fiercely at his mother, looking as if he'd rather stab his eyes out with any of the three forks on his placemat than guide Sora through his high school.

He was seriously beginning to think that Riku's face was forever stuck in a permanent frown.

"We'll need to get you some new clothes for school," Tifa continued, blatantly ignoring her eldest son. "You only came with that single bag, right?" He nodded shyly. "Well, you can't wear the same thing everyday, now."

Zexion nodded in agreement, speaking up for the first time since dinner started. "We were going to go ahead and go shopping for school supplies tomorrow for Riku, so we figured we could take you along and let you choose some clothes that you like. Riku-"

"I have plans tomorrow," He interrupted suddenly, his voice losing some of its earlier venom.

"With who?" Tifa asked suspiciously, knowing her son too well to know that he was just making up an excuse to leave.

"Cloud. We're probably going to lunch with Kairi or something."

She sighed, understanding that Riku still needed more time before he was forced to be with his new foster brother. "You'll be home for dinner though, right?"

He nodded. "Good, because your father and I have a business dinner with a couple from his company and I want you to stay home with Sora."

Riku's knife squeaked across the plate. He frowned. "Whatever," He mumbled underneath his breath.

"Excuse me?" Tifa suddenly became extremely stern and her eyes narrowed.

"I said fine!" He answered in an exasperated tone, rolling his eyes so she couldn't see. Zexion shook his head from across the table. Sora had a feeling that this was a conversation they held often.

"Good."

Dinner followed in about the same manner that his interview earlier did. Tifa asked a continuous stream of questions about his previous schooling and what he would like to buy to wear tomorrow. As much as he didn't want to admit, he found he liked talking to her. No matter how soft spoken he was, she always pressed him for answers, but he didn't feel like she was being pushy or nosy.

As dinner came to a close, Tifa motioned towards Riku and said, "Dishes," and he began gathering the empty plates from the table as both Tifa and Zexion stood up from the table. He carried their dishes into the kitchen and returned once, scowling at the brunette.

"Are you done with that or are you just going to stare at it all night?" He scoffed, icy eyes staring at the half-eaten pork chop and skewed vegetables, making him cringe back into his seat. Sora nodded quickly, unable to muster the courage to actually speak and he watched as Riku snatched up his plate and left him alone in the dining room.

This was all so alien to Sora. Their ways were foreign to him. He had never seen a house so expansive before, or one with marble and granite, polished wood floors and countertops. Braving his nerves, he stood up and pushed his chair in and walked into the kitchen.

Zexion was standing next to his son, next to the stove and Tifa was across the kitchen, kneeled down in front of one of the cabinets. "Put his dinner in a separate container. He didn't each much of it," Zexion was saying.

"Don't see how he could," Came the taut reply. "The kid's so damn skinny."

"Language, Riku!" Tifa scolded from the floor, retrieving a small container from the cabinet and straightening up carefully. She strode across the room, offering a smile at Sora before she placed the container on the counter. "Come on, Sora. I'll show you the bathroom," She said kindly, taking him by the hand and leading him through the kitchen into the living room and then up the stairs and down the hallway.

He happily obliged, not willing to be anywhere near Riku for the time being. The bathroom was just as magnificent as the rest of the house was. The walls were a light sandy color and the sink was granite. Tifa started the water for him, instructing him on how to turn it off and which knobs to turn to adjust the temperature and she left two large, fluffy towels on the sink.

"This is the bathroom you can use. It's right down the hall from your room. Here's shampoo, soap.." She trailed off as she gathered each from beneath the sink. "I believe that's all you need. Do you want to change into your own clothes? We have some of Van's old clothes. You might not be comfortable with wearing his stuff though."

"I-I can wear my own clothes," Sora said shyly, breaking Tifa's small tirade. She smiled at him and ruffled his hair gently.

"All right then. Take as long as you like. See you in the morning."

Sora sighed, cocking his head to the side. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as he originally thought. Riku could warm up to him soon enough, and Tifa and Zexion seemed to be welcoming him with open arms. Maybe Riku just needed time. He could understand that more than anyone.

And he could be patient.

If there was one thing that he had learned living in the orphanage and living through twelve different foster families, it was that nothing but time and patience could ease a foster kid into a new family.

As he took a shower, Sora let his mind wander, collecting his thoughts and processing the events that took place all in one day. It certainly seemed longer than a day. He thought about Roxas, and his last words per say. Everything was supposed to happen for a reason.

And maybe, though he was certain he was being unrealistically optimistic, this family would turn out all right. He scoffed bitterly to himself. It was a hard deal to sell, especially considering Riku.

The elder teen had been nothing short of hostile to him, but Sora wasn't sure he could completely blame him. It came as a shock to the boy that his parents suddenly show up with a new kid, claiming he was his new foster brother. It was unexpected and most of the kids that Sora had met while being fostered reacted in much the same way. Maybe they were more welcoming than Riku was, but their tendencies were all the same.

He was intruding into their home and he, in fact, felt like one.

After what seemed like forever of just standing in a daze in the shower, and it was considering he was never able to shower for long at the orphanage,(hot water never lasted long there), hot water cascading down his back, he finally began rinsing his hair and washing his body of soap.

When he finally did finish his shower, dried off, and managed to slip into his old pajamas, he realized that his shower had taken much longer than he thought. The entire house was dark and eerily quiet. He tiptoed back to his appointed room and was about to crawl under the covers, exhaustion finally gauging him, before he realized he forgot to brush his teeth.

He ran back to the bathroom and as he switched off the lights and returned to the room, he noticed a shadowed figure in the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?" The icy voice made him flinch. Sora gulped as Riku crossed his arms, leering ruthlessly at him. He stared down at his feet submissively, nervously playing with his fingers.

"I...I n-need to go to bed," He mumbled so quietly he wasn't sure Riku heard him.

The silver haired teen laughed meanly. "You're not sleeping in there." He reached backwards and fumbled with the lock on the inside of the door before slamming it shut. "This is not your room. You can sleep on the couch or the floor," He snarled, taking a step towards the brunette.

Sora's eyes widened and he cowered, stepping backwards in fear at Riku's fury. He just locked the door. He just locked him out of the room.

"Good luck finding your way around here," He scoffed, bending down to pick up a thin blanket and throwing it at Sora's feet. Then he turned on his heel, making sure to shove by the smaller boy, and he stalked away, leaving Sora alone in the hallway in a maze of rooms.

His eyes brightened with tears. How in the world was he supposed to find his way around the huge house? And how pitiful of him to actually think that Riku just needed time. This wasn't just shock and bitterness. This was downright brutal and antagonizing.

And he was positive Riku's words had a double meaning to them. It was a good luck finding your way around this God forsaken mansion and it was good luck staying here.

He sniffed softly, rubbing his hands over his eyes and then gingerly fingering Roxas' ring around his neck. He picked up the blanket from the floor and trudged slowly down the staircase, trying to remember where Tifa had taken him from the kitchen.

Luckily, he managed to find it easier than he thought and he curled up on the leather sofa, grateful that at least something went right this night. At least he wasn't wondering clueless around the house.

He splayed the blanket over his small frame, trembling. He curled his fingers around the ring again, a few tears escaping his eyes.

_Roxas, I wish you were here right now. I need you so much..._

* * *

"Sora? Sora, dear."

Someone was shaking him gently. He awoke with a start, wide eyes darting around, trying to figure out where he was. The ceilings were a dark granite color, not off-white. And whatever he was currently sleeping on was much more comfortable than the lumpy mattress he was used to sleeping on.

Tifa started as he groggily rubbed his eyes. "Sora, sweetie, why are you sleeping down here?" She asked, running her fingers through his tousled hair. He looked around again and realized that he was on the couch and last night's events swarmed back into his head.

Right. Riku had so graciously locked him out of his room. Speaking of the devil, he was looming behind Tifa, a scowl plastered on his face as usual and his arms crossed. Sora met his eyes, angry and unforgiving, just waiting for him to rat him out.

"I...accidentally l-locked myself out," He said, an apologetic pout on his face.

Tifa smiled at him. "We'll fix that," She said soothingly, stroking his cheek. She stood up and gathered the blanket that had somehow pooled at the edge of the sofa and she folded it neatly, eyeing it suspiciously. "Riku, isn't this the blanket that goes in your closet?" She asked, stern eyes narrowing.

Riku looked like a deer caught in headlights for a split-second and Sora almost reveled in him being found out, but his icy eyes narrowed and he said firmly, "Yeah, but I moved it a while back. No need to clutter my closet with crap."

Tifa stared accusingly at him for a few seconds and he managed a final glare at Sora, still daring him, still trying to rile him up. "Well, go put it back where it belongs," She stated firmly, standing up gracefully in black dress pants and handing it to him.

He looked oddly satisfied as he left the room without another word. "Sora, are you hungry?" Tifa asked, bringing him back to attention. He nodded eagerly.

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, and the best one he had had yet in a long time, Tifa had him wash up and get ready to go shopping. He honestly was surprised to see that so far, Tifa and Zexion were holding up their promises.

As he was walking back down the stairs to the front door, he paused, catching wind of Tifa talking to Riku as he impatiently held the door open.

"How long are you going to be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, Mom."

"No later than six thirty, all right? We have dinner reservations at seven."

"Sure, Mom," He said in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

"I'll see you later," She said, ignoring him and mussing his bangs out of his eyes. "Tell Cloud I said hi." She kissed his forehead and Sora saw him flash a genuine smile. The first he had ever seen out of the hostile teen. He was so positive that Riku was incapable of any other human emotions other than anger.

It was almost nice to see that Riku had another side to him. He so obviously hid behind a mask. Sora felt himself smile sadly. Maybe there was hope for him after all. Riku wasn't the cold-hearted jerk he acted like. He was just hiding behind a facade, and if there was one thing that Sora knew more than anything, it was about hiding behind a mask.

But it offered him a chance. And that was all he needed. What they both needed.

* * *

"I don't know what they were thinking!" Riku groaned, sprawling across the edge of Cloud's bed, unceremoniously.

"You never know. Maybe he's not that bad," Cloud said, raising a blond eyebrow at him. He knew that Riku could be stubborn and blindsided, but it was something he usually got over quickly. Not this time it seemed.

"You just don't get it Cloud. You don't _fucking_ get it," He spat angrily, turning so he could face his best friend.

Cloud folded his arms. "What the hell is there to get, Riku?" He countered, a little tired of Riku's constant complaints.

"The fucking kid looks like Van!" He shot back, glowering with spite as Cloud did a double take. "Exactly like him. Except he has brown hair and blue eyes. And he's the skinniest damn thing I've ever seen," He explained hotly, not letting Cloud have a chance to speak.

Cloud sighed, running a hand through his blond spikes tiredly. Riku had been going off about his new foster brother for hours. And frankly, he was getting sick and tired of Riku ranting over every little thing that he believed was wrong with his life.

"Why don't you cut the kid some slack? He obviously has no home or family. That's why he was in the orphanage in the first place and obviously why he's here now."

"He sure as hell doesn't belong in this one," Came Riku's blatant comment, disregarding the common sense that his best friend was shoving right in his face. He rolled over on his back, sneering as Cloud shook his head in disapproval.

After a few moments of tense silence, Cloud spoke up again, moving to the bed. "I think you're overreacting, you know."

Riku rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't expect you to understand anyways."

Cloud bit his lip as the silver haired teen chose to stare pointedly at his ceiling, completely ignoring him. Riku sure could throw the tantrums around like a little kid. He used to not have such an explosive temper.

Ever since his brother had passed away, his temper had gotten out of hand. Back when Van's accident was still fresh in everyone's mind, Riku had gone on a downhill spiral, his anger spinning out of control. He lashed out at everyone and anyone. Unfortunately, it had a lasting effect on him, and Riku's sore attitude and disclosure of his old friends had left him with only two people who truly stayed by his side.

But Cloud had to admit, even he felt like giving up on his own friend sometimes.

"I hate when you do this."

"Do what?"

"You know what, Riku. Dammit! Did you ever think about how this _kid_ feels? Does this _kid_ even have a name or are you just making him into some sort of object of your disposal? Don't you think he's just as uncomfortable and unhappy with this new change as you are? I'm sure as hell he's having a hard enough time as it is trying to deal with you, of all people."

"Cloud, shut up!" Riku groaned, fisting his hair in frustration.

"I bet his life already is a living hell. Everyone knows about Hollow Bastian. It's like the ghetto, Riku."

Riku slammed his fist into the bed, sitting upright and growling at Cloud, "Will you stop siding with that damn orphan!"

"What the hell is your problem?" Cloud shouted, finally breaking. Riku was being completely unreasonable. He had been fighting so hard to control his own temper.

"My problem?"

"Yes, your problem!" He furiously rubbed his temples. "Good God, just stop already!"

Riku stood up, pacing angrily around the room, his fists clenched tightly and his entire body shaking as Cloud watched helplessly from the bed. There was nothing that could get through to Riku when he was angry.

"Look," He sighed, taking a deep breath to steady the blood boiling in his veins. "Can we just forget about this? At least for right now?"

Riku jerked his head in his direction, fury burning behind his aqua eyes.

Cloud's face darkened. He had had enough. "Go home then."

Riku spun around, his eyes still blazing and a look of disbelief crossing his features. "Why?" He snapped.

"Because," Cloud growled, standing up, "I'm not going to sit here and listen to you act like a damn six-year old just because you have a new foster brother. Get the fuck over it already!"

"You don't get it!" Riku seethed between clenched teeth, advancing on the other teen.

"What is there to get?" Cloud finally snapped, finding exactly what was going to make Riku listen once and for all. "It's been two years, Riku! Get over it!"

He flinched as Riku's eyes widened in pain and fury, expecting the boy to punch him or strangle him. But a deep sadness boiled underneath all the hate and rage and Riku's shoulders finally slumped. Cloud breathed a sigh of relief, until Riku's icy eyes suddenly hardened again and his lips curled into a snarl.

"Fuck you!"

He pivoted on his heel and left the room fervently, slamming the door behind him and leaving Cloud wandering what in the world had just happened.

* * *

Shopping was a nice change for once for Sora. He had never really had any new clothes at the orphanage, and when he did, they were all from thrift stores or hand-me-downs or donated. He couldn't remember the last time he actually got to pick what he wanted to wear.

At first he was very apprehensive about shopping and even more about how unconsciously Tifa and Zexion were spending money. He had expected a few shirts and jeans, maybe a jacket or two, some shoes and socks and undergarments, but never the amount that they had proposed.

Any item of clothing that he so much as looked at fondly, it was in the cart. He had already compiled enough shirts to fill up one of the drawers of the dresser in his room. Jeans had been another story entirely. He was so skinny and small, they were forced to find jeans in the kid's sections of every store they visited.

At first it was embarrassing, but his gratefulness and excitement won that over.

After clothes shopping, which took up most of the morning, Tifa and Zexion took him to lunch, then took him out again for school supplies. He had never had a book bag before; there was no need for one, really at the orphanage. He got to choose a big, blue and black one that he liked and then he got his own pencils, pens, markers, paper and binders.

Needless to say, he felt ridiculously spoiled and he was relieved when Tifa finally told him they were going to make one more stop before they went home.

Exhausted from such a busy day, he began to drift off as Zexion drove around the city, his head leaning against the window, when the car took a sharp turn and through half-lidded eyes, he saw a massive, brick building, black mounted letters reading, "Radiant Garden Pediatrics."

He sat up abruptly, nervously twitching his fingers. "Am I g-going to the doctor's?" He asked timidly.

Tifa turned in her seat. "Not today. We're just going to make you an appointment. I'm sure that Ms. Gainsborough has kept you updated on your shots, but you still need a physical and health check done for the school, okay?"

He nodded, relief washing over him that he didn't have to go. His experiences in the hospital or even a doctor's for that matter, were not exceptionally good ones.

He waited patiently in the car, chatting quietly with Tifa, who seemed to be playing twenty questions with him again, while Zexion went in and scheduled him an appointment before school started in two weeks.

Once they got home, they helped him unpack and fold and put everything on hangers in his new room and then brought him downstairs into the living room to watch television while they began to prepare for their evening dinner.

Tifa had just gotten downstairs, applying makeup to her eyes when Riku stalked in unannounced and dropped onto the couch furthest away from the two of them.

"Riku, you're home early," She commented lightly, checking her watch. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged his shoulders and ignored her question, staring up at the giant, flat screen t.v. perched on the wall. There were two soft leather couches and a love seat that circled a glass table. On the left of the room, a pretty, stone fireplace stood.

After a few quiet minutes, Tifa closed a compact mirror with a snap and set a makeup bag into her purse.

Sora could tell from the get go that Tifa was a very elegant and well-dressed woman, but even he thought she looked exceptionally beautiful. Her long dark hair was curled into thick waves around her face and she was wearing a black and white checkered coat that covered her dress but revealed her black leggings.

She crossed the living room in heels, calling for her husband, "Zexion, honey, are you ready to go?"

"I'm waiting on you," Came the reply.

"All right," She turned around, smiling once at Sora then leveling her gaze on Riku. "Riku?"

"Hm?"

"Money's on the countertop to order out. Yuna is coming over to get the laundry."

"Yeah, yeah, I already know," He waved her off. She smirked and walked to him, kissing his cheek.

"Behave," She warned. As she walked out to leave, she stopped to ruffle Sora's hair. "Mind Riku, okay dear? We'll be home soon."

He nodded and his cheeks blushed as she knelt down to leave a small kiss on his forehead. Tifa had a way of making him feel special, like maybe he really could belong here.

Riku shot him a glare as soon as the front door shut and he jumped to his feet, scowling as he approached the sitting brunette. Without a word, he snatched the remote that was laying on the cushion beside him before returning to the other sofa and collapsing on his chest, flipping through the channels lazily.

Sora shifted nervously, bringing his feet to his chest as tension settled eerily in the room. He didn't want to be alone with Riku, especially after the hateful display last night. He chose to try and ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and focus on the changing channels.

He jumped when the doorbell suddenly rang, earning a raised eyebrow from Riku.

"Come in!" He called, his voice echoing through the empty house.

A few moments later, a petite woman with mousy brown hair walked past the room.

"Clothes are all in the hampers and the sheets are all stacked in the master bedroom, Yuna!" He called again loudly.

Sora stared wondrously at the silver haired teen as he heard a high-pitched, "Thank you dear!" He dared himself to speak.

"You uhh...have a maid?" He tried for small talk.

"Nothing gets by you, does it?" Riku mocked sarcastically, not turning his eyes from the television.

His tone made Sora bite his lip. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Riku definitely didn't seem like the type for small talk. His comment may have been smart, but it wasn't necessarily crude, so he tried again.

"Your...mom said you're really close to Cloud?" He tried hopefully. Riku turned on him so suddenly, his eyes blazing so angrily that Sora felt himself cowering into the sofa.

"Mind your own damn business!" He retorted.

Sora gulped. He just blew that chance. That was like the one step forward, two steps back as the saying goes. He remained silent for a long time, jaded as Riku decided on random channels then got disinterested and went to another channel. His stomach began growling, churning uncomfortable. He hadn't eaten since lunchtime.

He glanced nervously at Riku again. Third time's a charm right? "R-Riku?"

"_What_?" He snapped irritably.

"C-Can we order some food? I'm g-getting hungry."

The teen slammed the remote on to the glass table and Sora was surprised that the glass didn't break. He got to his feet, leaving the room.

"Order your own."

Sora sat dumbfounded for a moment. This was way beyond Riku simply having a bad temper. He seemed to have a severe prejudice against him. Then his anger started boiling. What the hell was wrong with Riku He had done nothing wrong to him.

Sora hated confrontations, but this was just wrong. Gritting his teeth, he stormed after the obnoxious teen, up the stairs and into the hallway.

"What is your problem?" He asked, his voice raised just enough to actually get Riku to look at him.

The teen snarled as he turned around, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're my problem."

"What have I done to you?" Sora asked angrily, refusing to let Riku get away with his rude behavior.

"You want to know what you've done? You've fucked up everything!" He screamed, advancing quickly on the small brunette, surprised that the fourteen year old didn't back off. "I don't want another brother and I don't need one either! You think I wanted you here?" He gripped Sora's shoulders painfully.

Sora felt his face redden. "Like I wanted to come here!" He finally shouted, snapping Riku's hands away. "You think that I got up on my own accord and decided I wanted to leave all my friends behind just to come here and be insulted and yelled at! I didn't ask to come here!"

Riku stepped back, shaking his head. "Well good! Cause I don't want you here!"

"Good! Because I don't want to be here!" Sora yelled, his voice turning hoarse as tears sprang into his eyes. He shoved by the elder teen, storming into his room and slamming the door.

Riku was so rotten. He didn't have a choice on whether or not he could have stayed at the orphanage. He had just been whisked away. Trembling, he pulled one of the pillows over his head and cried silently into the mattress. This was so unfair. In what previous life had he done something so bad that he had to endure this kind of abuse?

Sora continued to cry until he finally passed out from exhaustion and a quiet knock at the door startled him.

He sniffed, rubbing his swollen eyes as he lifted his head from underneath the pillow. "What?" He asked, his voice bitter but tired sounding.

"There's pizza downstairs," A hesitant but gruff voice said, before Sora heard footsteps leaving. He sighed. He really didn't want to have to deal with Riku again. Fighting with him was exhausting and enduring his snide remarks and biting tongue was really beginning to damage what little self-esteem Sora had.

He clambered to his feet, examining his reflection in the mirror across the room, noting his haggard appearance. He could stay shut in the room until he looked halfway decent, but a particular loud grumbling of his stomach told him otherwise.

Sora reluctantly made his way down the stairs, doing his best to stay as far away from Riku as possible. Lucky for him, the silver haired angsty teen was nowhere in sight. He inhaled deeply, hot pizza filling his senses. His stomach growled again and he eagerly entered the kitchen where two large pizzas were, boxes open.

He took a plastic plate that was sitting beside one of the boxes and stacked a few slices on his plate before he retraced his steps backwards to his room. If luck had ever been with him, it was then. He hadn't caught a single glimpse of Riku, therefore avoiding another hostile conflict. He carefully locked the door and sat at his desk, numbly chewing his dinner.

If this was going to be how every single day with Riku was going to be...Sora shook his head. He could not handle this everyday. He decided he would just stay out of Riku's way for a few days, let him mull over their argument, and hopefully they would finally be able to speak civilly to each other.

Hope. That was the only thing he could hold on to for now.

* * *

I understand that these updates are taking long, but I just want everyone to realize that I am quite obviously making changes and I just want my readers to appreciate them. There are notable differences and that's one of the reasons this was taking so long. However, I am finally out for the summer, which means that my updates will happen much more quickly.

Also, I am currently going through some new ideas for more stories, and both of them are summer romance flicks. So we'll see about those coming out soon.

Don't forget to check out Finding Freedom, a spin on Titanic, and my first fic that will actually contain more pairings, and A Heart On Your Sleeve, something that I am also going to revise some.

Thank you for being patient, and I hope you enjoyed this.


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